


Silver

by hypernomad



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:12:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1737575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypernomad/pseuds/hypernomad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey's been wearing a chain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver

Mickey’s been wearing a chain.

It’s not a particularly distinctive or interesting chain, just a chunky silver one that had appeared around Mickey’s neck one day. Ian is in love with it already. It looks beautiful resting against the dark fabric of Mickey’s tank top and atop his bare chest as he sleeps, glinting in the streetlight outside the window and almost appearing to melt into his pale skin. It’s mesmerising as it swings back and forth when Mickey rides him frantically, even as it knocks into Ian’s teeth painfully. Mickey tells him it’s his fault for being a freak and grinning at him while they’re fucking.

Ian’s barely said a word about it, but he thinks it’s one of the sexiest additions Mickey’s made to his appearance yet. Usually he’s not one for men wearing jewellery, but there’s something cheap about it that adds to the Eastern-European-tough guy-gangster kink he apparently has. He almost wants Mickey to start wearing cheap tracksuits to complete the ensemble. Almost.

Still, Ian doesn’t rock the boat, and to his joy, the chain sticks around.

Mickey’s been stood in his usual spot under the L for about an hour practicing his aim and getting a little tipsy when he spots the redhead approaching him in the distance—sans shirt (it’s tucked into the waistband of his jeans, swinging alongside him as he walks). As he stares at the younger boy, his fingers slip on the trigger and he ends up shooting the wall behind the figure he’d drawn on a scrap piece of cardboard.

“You want a few pointers?” Ian says with a laugh, the bright evening light of the sun illuminating his stupid pale skin.

Fucking asshole. Who the fuck does he think he is?

“No, shithead,” Mickey smirks, “I’ve been shootin’ since elementary school, I don’t think I need any of your fancy ROTC bullshit to know how to fire a gun.”

Ian laughs from where he’s sat leaning against the concrete pillar nearby and lights up. “You sure? I’m sure I could teach you a thing or two.” He says lowly, looking at Mickey with dark eyes.

Mickey’s jeans tighten a little at the way the idiot says it, but he plays it cool and closes one eye to aim one again. “I’m good.” He says, and fires, hitting the figure square in the chest.

“Suit yourself.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes save for the sound of Mickey’s gunshots piercing the air. He almost hates how he much harder he tries now that Ian’s watching him. He can feel his eyes boring into his back while he works, and he’s so focussed on the sounds of the other boy’s inhaling and exhaling of smoke that he stops and looks over at him in annoyance.

“Will you quit staring?” He says. “It’s really fucking irritating.”

Ian smiles mischievously and sneaks a can from the six pack Mickey brought with him on the floor when the older boy looks away.

“I saw that.” Mickey says, firing another shot.

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Ian says challengingly, pulling the tab on the can and slurping the foam off the top loudly.

Mickey goes to fire another shot when the gun clicks uselessly and he turns to walk over to the redhead. Ian looks panicked for a moment while Mickey approaches him, but the brunet simply grabs one for himself, shoves the gun into the back of his jeans and cracks the can open to take a few large gulps. Ian leans back against the concrete pillar behind him and spreads his legs wider, watching Mickey’s eyes darkly.

Mickey licks a drop of beer from the corner of his mouth before speaking again. “You lose your razor, Redbeard?”

Ian laughs and strokes the copper-coloured scruff that’s growing on his cheeks and jaw. “Nah. Just thought I’d try somethin’ new. What, you don’t like it?”

Mickey smirks and then reaches out a hand to stroke over it. He scratches his fingernails through the coarse spikes, eliciting a quiet, rough sound. It does look pretty good. Stubble rash hurts like a bitch, but he loves the look of it on Ian’s face enough to he concede that it probably won’t be so painful once it grows out a little more.

Tilting his head to the side and shrugging playfully, he plucks the cigarette from between Ian’s lips and takes a drag on it. “I guess I can tolerate it. The second I get stubble rash though, it’s gone, alright?” He says.

“Deal.” Ian grins wide and stands up to swipe the gun from down the back of Mickey’s jeans (with an added smack of the older boy’s fleshy ass cheek, which Mickey’s totally going to punch him in the kidney for later) and makes his way over to where Mickey had just been standing to reload it with a clip from the small pile on the floor.

Raising the gun, he looks over to where Mickey’s now sat on the upturned wooden crate Ian was just sat on, and smirks. “Prepare to witness perfection.” He says.

“You’re such a douchebag.”

However, true to his word, Ian then proceeds to prove his boast. Carefully and confidently, Ian reels off the name of every body part before he shoots it with practiced precision.

It’s hands down the hottest thing Mickey’s ever seen.

Ian turns to face him and twirls the gun in his hand with a grin. “Told you, perfect.” He says, cockily raising of his eyebrow and swiping the cigarette that’s hanging, lax, from Mickey’s mouth. He takes the last drag on it before flicking it to the floor and then Mickey’s grabbing him by his cheap, Target-bought dog tags and leading him by them to Ian’s – or, rather, their – house. Ian laughs and follows obediently.

“You know Fiona’s gonna flip her shit when she finds out you brought a gun into this house, right?” Ian says as he unbuckles his jeans and shoves them to the floor.

“Which is why nobody’s gonna say shit about it,” Mickey replies breathlessly, twisting his shirt off and slamming the pistol on the windowsill behind Ian’s bed.

Ian smirks and steps out of his jeans hastily while Mickey does the same, and as soon as they’re both naked he’s slowing down a little to wrap his arms around the older boy’s head and placing a deep kiss on his mouth. Mickey closes his eyes and melts into it, inhaling through his nose and stroking his hands down Ian’s slightly sweaty back. They break apart after a few moments and Mickey rubs his nose against the older boy’s affectionately before grinning and biting his lip as Ian rubs their dicks together.

“You know, I could’ve sworn they engraved your name and blood type and shit on these things instead of just a bunch of random numbers,” Mickey says teasingly, fiddling with the stainless steel tag hanging around Ian’s neck.

Ian’s nostrils flare in a way that always sends a shiver down Mickey’s spine because he knows he’s touched a nerve and that now he’s going to get fucked especially hard. True to form, Ian slaps his ass again and Mickey jerks with an excited bite of his lip.

“All fours, smartass.” Ian says simply, and Mickey doesn’t feel like arguing. He gets on the bed with a quiet snicker and assumes the position. Ian slides open his bedside drawer to fish out the lube before he kneels behind the older boy on the bed. Then, he licks his lips a few times and buries his face between the older boy’s cheeks and laves over his asshole slowly.

“Ah-!” Mickey gasps out, spreading his legs a little wider. Ian takes it as an encouraging sign and begins eating out his hole just as hungrily as he has the last few times they’ve done this.

Until recently, rimming hadn’t been much of a thing between them. Ian had got Mickey into it at their ill-fated sleepover and since repairing the damage that had been done between them over the past year, it had quickly become one of their favourite things to do. Mickey groans and arches his back, looking over his shoulder at Ian eating out his hole and panting loudly and hoarsely into the clammy bedroom. “Fuck, yeah,” he breaths, and then lets out a loud groan as Ian’s tongue begins pressing into him a little more forcefully, his hands grabbing his ass cheeks and spreading them wider to give him better access.

Mickey’s letting out a constant stream of deep moans as his dick leaks onto the mattress below him and finally Ian pulls back to slick his fingers. Licking his lips, Ian slides his middle finger into the tight, welcoming heat and pushes it in and out a few times while Mickey grunts and pushes back against them impatiently.

Ian doesn’t spend too long preparing him – they fuck on such a regular basis now that Mickey makes sure he virtually walks around ready to go. When Ian’s got three fingers inside of him, the brunet grunts and shifts so that Ian’s fingers brush against his prostate. Mickey’s back snaps into an arch and Ian grins as he rams his fingers against that spot mercilessly.

“Fuck,” Mickey breaths out, spreading his legs wide and shifting to lean down on his elbows. “Get inside me,” he groans out.

Ian had been so absorbed in Mickey’s pleasure that he’d completely neglected his own, and so he quickly squeezes some lube onto his leaking cock and spreads it over it before positioning himself at the older boy’s slick entrance. With a shared groan, Ian holds onto the back of Mickey’s neck, stroking a thumb against the cool metal of his necklace, and slides inside. Mickey shivers at the deep, familiar feeling and spreads his legs a little wider in anticipation.

After a moment’s rest, Ian pulls out, holding onto Mickey’s neck and clasping his hip with the other hand before slamming back in again. Mickey lets out a moan that sounds as though it’s been punched out of him, and Ian smirks triumphantly. Groaning, he begins pounding into the smaller boy, delighting in the rhythmic clapping of his hips against his ass.

Mickey sighs and squeezes his eyes shut, panting breathlessly and letting out expletives every now and then. His cock is leaking against the mattress and Ian is mesmerised by the silver chain around his neck, swinging back and forth against Mickey’s chest while every thrust pushes him closer to the edge.

Shifting a little, Ian twists his dog tags around and tosses them over his shoulder so they rest against his back instead and don’t get in the way while he picks up the pace. He angles his hips down so that he can piston the older boy even harder, grunting and smiling wide as Mickey lets out a strangled moan and thrusts back against him a little harder.

Ian groans as he feels his balls tighten and he reaches underneath Mickey’s body to grab his dick to bring him along for the ride. “Come on,” he whispers, pressing his lips to the space behind Mickey’s ear and jerking him off rapidly, his other hand coming up to twist and tease a nipple. Moaning loudly, Mickey leans up and braces himself to fuck himself back on Ian’s dick roughly. His moans climb as he feels his orgasm approach and Ian grins as he reaches the precipice along with him. With a rough, breathless, laughing moan, Mickey grimaces and comes over the mattress, his hole fluttering around Ian’s dick and milking an eruption out of him. Ian groans and bites down on the older boy’s neck, his teeth clinking against the metal and his hips jerking wildly as he empties himself inside the other boy.

After a few minutes and some tired shuffling around, they settle back against the mattress tiredly.

“Is anyone actually home?” Mickey asks after they catch their breath.

“Shouldn’t be… they just got quite the disturbance if they are.” Ian says, grinning. “Nah, Carl’s got a football game; my guess is they all left for that before I got off work.”

Sighing, Mickey nods against his chest and traces over the dips in Ian’s abs. “It’s weird. Your house is never this quiet.” Mickey says quietly.

“It’s your house as well, you know.” Ian says.

“Really.”

“Yeah, I mean… we live together, right? It’s just… not always the same place one week to the next.” Ian laughs.

Mickey laughs back. “I guess so, huh? My place when Terry’s in the pen and Kenyatta isn’t hanging around waiting to get stabbed, yours when your sister manages to keep her ass sober and your shithead brother stays at college for more than five minutes.”

Ian laughs. “Or when fuckin’ Sammi’s kid isn’t hijacking my bed and Frank’s not pissin’ in it.”

“I found another hamburger wrapper down the side of the bed, by the way. Big ketchup stain on the wall, too.” Mickey says, nuzzling Ian’s chest a little.

“Did you clean it up?”

“Hell no, I ain’t cleanin’ up after that fat little fuck.”

“Ugh. Gross.” Ian says, glancing over his shoulder at the wall.

Mickey shifts a little and closes his eyes, and Ian presses a kiss to his head. “You tired?”

“Pimping is exhausting, what can I say?”

“Not as tiring as dancing on a stage all night.” He didn’t actually work at the club anymore, but still.

“Shut up and go to sleep, I’m too tired for your tit-for-tat shit right now.”

“That’s no way to speak to someone who just gave you the fuck of your- argh!”

Mickey had twisted his nipple. “I said go the fuck to sleep, asswipe.”

Ian shuffled and wrapped his arms around tighter around him, kissing him on the forehead. “Goodnight, princess. Dream of dicks.”

Mickey tried to stifle it, but he shook with a silent giggle against Ian’s chest before he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
